


Weirdest Relatives

by osmia_avosetta



Series: Friendly Competition [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmia_avosetta/pseuds/osmia_avosetta
Summary: Written as a prompt-fill for unionjackpillow, who requested Douglas and Theresa playing "Weirdest Relatives."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unionjackpillow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unionjackpillow/gifts).



Douglas really, really wanted his car back.

It wasn’t just the fact that it was a Lexus, or it was powered on jet fuel, or even that one of Emily’s little airplane drawings hung from the rear-view.

It was the fact that Her Royal Highness Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein had won it off of him, confiscating his keys a few hours before in a game of Rhyming Journeys with  _ Milan to San Juan _ .

_ Her Royal Highness Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein had won Douglas’s car off of him _ , and they were at  _ bloody cruising altitude _ .

So as Theresa quietly shut the flightdeck door to get to the loo and he and Martin were left alone in the flight deck, the gears began turning in the first officer’s head.

He was determined to get his car back.

Of course, he’d been beaten in competition by Theresa before. There was that chess game he preferred not to think about...the one where he stole the Camembert from under Carolyn’s nose and then proceeded to lose it to Theresa. And then the time she’d plotted with Arthur to sabotage his sandcastle. There were a few other times too, but he preferred not to think much about  _ those.  _ Because Douglas Richardson never lost. The idea of Douglas Richardson losing  _ anything  _ was astronomically absurd, and he was determined once and for all to regain his sixty-odd-year winning streak in the game of life. 

“Say, Martin,” he found himself casually wondering, “have you met Theresa’s family yet?”

“Mm, not many, actually,” Martin said. “I’m not quite sure they like the idea of...well,  _ me. _ ”

“I mean, I don’t judge them,” Douglas poked. “I’m not quite sure I like the idea either.”

“Shut up, Douglas. I mean, there’s Maxie. I’ve met Maxie, definitely. And Theresa. And...well, I met her youngest sister once. It was at the Taj Mahal, actually. Nice girl, really. Well, she d-doesn’t like aeroplanes as much as Theresa does, but that’s okay. I mean, not all people have to like aeroplanes.”

“Golly,” Douglas assumed a mock-incredulous tone. “Wise words from our Captain. Scoring a princess as a girlfriend has really broadened his mind.”

The flightdeck door reopened as Martin pinked rapidly and said, “Shut up again, Douglas.”

“Shut up what?” Theresa asked curiously, a packet of crisps rustling in her hand as she closed the door and took the jumpseat. “Douglas, have you been teasing dear Martin again, by any chance? He looks...pinker than usual.”

“Oh, you know I’d never do such a thing,” Douglas shrugged.

“Read, always,” Martin rolled his eyes.

“Dear me, Douglas,” Theresa replied dramatically, opening the bag. “Bad, bad pilot. I thought you were trained to fly the  _ friendly  _ skies.”

“Thank you.  _ Thank you!”  _ Martin said triumphantly. 

“For what, Martin?” Theresa asked, raising an eyebrow at him over the crisp she’d take out of the bag. 

“Sticking up for me,” Martin replied, leaning back in his seat and running his fingers through his hair until it stood up. 

“It was nothing,” Theresa said, popping the crisp into her mouth and chewing. 

They watched the clouds scudding pleasantly by for a few minutes until Douglas proposed his plan. 

“Say, why don't we start a new game?” he asked slyly. 

“Rhyming Journeys again,” Theresa suggested excitedly. “I liked that one.”

“No, how about something new?” he suggested. 

“Sure, why not,” she conceded. 

“How about... _ Weirdest Relatives _ ?” he put forth. 

“Uh, Douglas,” Martin said instantly. “ _ Weirdest Relatives?  _ Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“Why, absolutely,” Douglas said calmly, watching the glint of competitive spirit enter Theresa’s light amber eyes. 

“Let's do this,” she said eagerly, dusting her hands of crisp crumbs. “Martin, establish a time limit.”

“Fine,” Martin said reluctantly, raising his watch-clad wrist to eye level. “Currently it is 10:54 AM. How about starting at 10:55 we play for...ah, thirty minutes?”

“Sure,” Douglas and Theresa agreed. 

“Right. Ten seconds...eight, seven, six, get ready, five, four, three, two, and one!”

“I once had an aunt on my mother's side,” Theresa said instantly. “She once had a rather extraordinary hobby that happened to do with…”

* * *

 

“Almost time,” Martin noted at the 25-minute mark. “Whoever gets last say wins, right?”

“Yes,” Douglas and Theresa said. Douglas felt rather confident of himself. So far he'd pulled ahead with the stories of his great-uncle Timothy and some other of his distant relatives. Theresa, meanwhile, was a bit behind in the count and looked like she’d spent up everyone she knew. At least that’s how Douglas saw it.

Silence descended upon the flightdeck for a time.

“Two minutes,” Martin noted.

“My maternal grandmother,” Theresa burst out quickly. “She was known for a strange ability that only we all know about. Please promise not to tell. Anyway, the story goes that she once was reading a book at nine years old, her toes not quite reaching the floor. She was short as a child. And as she got more and more engrossed in the story, her family noticed something peculiar. Her toes were slowly reaching to touch the ground. She wasn't shifting her position. She was growing slowly before her family's eyes, like a tree in slow motion, until her feet touched the ground. Her father asked her to look at him, and hey presto, they saw something even more startling than my maternal grandmother growing like a tree.

“Her face had changed, too. And as her mother screamed in fright, my grandmother turned back into her normal self, demanding to know what was going on. Later they read the book and realised -”

“Ten seconds,” Martin warned. 

“That she'd transformed into the main character of the book,” Theresa finished. “In short, my maternal grandmother could change her appearance.”

“Time,” Martin announced. “Theresa wins.”

“Damn it, that  _ couldn't  _ have been true!” Douglas protested, but Theresa was grinning from ear to ear. 

“You never said it had to be a  _ real  _ relative,” she pointed out as she unwrapped a biscuit.

* * *

 

“And shutdown,” Martin said. “Look, Douglas, I'd better go. Theresa and I need to do something, alright? See you around.”

Douglas buried his head in his hands once the captain had shut the flightdeck door behind him. His plan had failed miserably, and he still hadn't gotten his car back from Theresa. 

Things were not looking up for Douglas Richardson. 

Eventually he gathered his wits from the various realms through which they were scattered and exited the plane, calling out a dejected farewell to Carolyn and Arthur as he went down the stairs. 

He walked across the airfield sadly, ignoring the calls of various ground crew, before stopping by the portakabin to collect the flight bag he'd accidentally left there the week before and heading to the car park. 

As he approached, he saw Arthur, Carolyn, Martin, and Theresa hanging around a certain shiny car. 

Douglas squinted. 

_ His  _ car. 

He quickened his pace until he was within speaking distance. 

“What are you all doing here?” His voice came out a bit harsh than usual, probably due to him losing to Theresa yet  _ again.  _

“Ah, hello Douglas!” Theresa perkily waggled her fingers at him. “The man of the hour. We've been waiting.”

“Douglas, if this is your idea…” Carolyn began dangerously. “I have a...a...an appointment with Herc.”

“Mum’s going on a date,” Arthur clarified, for which he earned a swat and a hissed “ _ Code Red _ ” from Carolyn. 

“It wasn't my idea,” Douglas said, curiosity piqued despite himself. He dropped his things on the asphalt and held both hands up. “I have nothing to do with this. Scout’s honor.”

“Well, whoever came up with this, get on with what we're all out here to do,” Carolyn grouched.

“Ah, yes,” Theresa said easily, slipping a hand into her pocket and flipping out its contents with a metallic jingle. “Catch.”

Douglas held out a hand and she tossed the object to him. It landed into his palm with a jingle, and Douglas looked down.

_ My car keys? _

“You know, Douglas, you could have just asked me to give you back your car,” Theresa said, leaning against his Lexus. Martin looked like he was trying his best not to laugh. “I’d have given it to you. Besides, I don’t really need it. Not yet, anyway.”

It took a bit for the last part to sink in, but Douglas got it eventually.

“Not...not  _ yet? _ ” he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, we won’t need your jet-fuel-powered Lexus for a while yet,” Theresa said calmly. “Not for...ah, eight, nine months anyway.”

Martin put a hand around Theresa’s shoulders, bursting with pride. “We’re having a baby!” he announced gleefully.

Carolyn let out a soft “oh!” of surprise.

Arthur clapped his hands.

And Douglas?

For once, Douglas Richardson was speechless.


End file.
